rock above the old road, but so defaced as to be
illegible. This is undoubtedly the principal gate of the Taurus, and the
pass through which the armies of Cyrus and Alexander entered Cilicia.

Beyond the gate the mountains retreated, and we climbed up a little dell,
past two or three Turcoman houses, to the top of a hill, whence opened a
view of the principal range, now close at hand. The mountains in front
were clothed with dark cedars to their very tops, and the snow-fields
behind them seemed dazzlingly bright and near. Our course for several
miles now lay through a more open valley, drained by the upper waters of
the Cydnus. On two opposing terraces of the mountain chains are two
fortresses, built by Ibraham Pasha, but now wholly deserted. They are
large and well-constructed works of stone, and surrounded by ruins of
stables, ovens, and the rude houses of the soldiery. Passing between
these, we ascended to the shelf dividing the waters of the Cydnus and the
Sihoon. From the point where the slope descends to the latter river, there
opened before me one of the most glorious landscapes I ever beheld. I
stood at the extremity of a long hollow or depression between the two
ranges of the Taurus--not a valley, for it was divided by deep cloven
chasms, hemmed in by steeps overgrown with cedars. On my right rose a
sublime chain, soaring far out of the region of trees, and lifting its
peaked summits of gray rock into toe sky. Another chain, nearly as lofty,
but not so broken, nor with such large, imposing features, overhung me on
the left; and far in front, filling up the magnificent vista--filling up
all between the lower steeps, crowned with pine, and the round white
clouds hanging on the verge of heaven--were the shining snows of the
Taurus. Great God, how shall I describe the grandeur of that view! How
draw the wonderful outlines of those mountains! How paint the airy hue of
violet-gray, the soft white lights, the thousandfold pencillings of mellow
shadow, the height, the depth, the far-reaching vastness of the landscape!

In the middle distance, a great blue gorge passed transversely across the
two ranges and the region between. This, as I rightly conjectured, was the
bed of the Sihoon. Our road led downward through groves of fragrant
cedars, and we travelled thus for two hours before reaching the river.
Taking a northward course up his banks, we reached the second of the _Pylae
Ciliciae_ before sunset. It is on a grander